


Nostalgia

by savagejinyoung



Category: Super Junior
Genre: Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 11:43:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15460626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savagejinyoung/pseuds/savagejinyoung
Summary: A drabble that kicked me when I woke up.





	Nostalgia

It was soft and sudden, the breeze that tripped down the sidewalk, swirled around Donghae, carrying with it an air of nostalgia. All the conditions were perfect, the air was just cool enough for him to envision himself in a scarf and warm jacket, a tight grip on his hand and a coffee in the other as golden leaves danced around him. He closed his eyes for a moment and took it all in, the sounds of laughter, distant, haunting and yet cozy; the bright smiles, the gentle brushing of shoulders as they walked.

The vision was gone as soon as it had arrived, the heat of the sun now unaffectedly beating down on him again, reminding him that summer was in full swing, and he was no longer twenty-two.

The crosswalk light changed from red to green and he jogged on, his mind now encumbered with memories, his heart now heavy with lingering grief. The wind that blew was no longer cool, but thick with humidity, the promise of fall’s approach less within reach.

He turned down an alley, jogging past hidden restaurants and hole-in-the-wall cafes, bookshops and places of lesser repute. It was all familiar, yet felt so foreign to him.

How long had it been now? At least seven years since he received that horrible news. Life had changed. He had changed. But could anyone have expected him to remain the same?

When he was home from his run, he showered, leaning against the wall and staring at the grout between the tiles. He could feel the pain, raw as if it were brand new, and the tears came before he could swallow them down. He rested his head on the cool tile and let it happen. He rarely let himself be weak, because a small child needed his strength daily. He was allowed, just this once, to dissolve into the grief he buried.

When the tap had run cold, he pulled himself together and got out of the shower, getting dressed and draping his towel over his head. He had just eaten a sandwich when the doorbell rang and he couldn’t wait to get there, open the door and see his world on the other side.

Eunhyuk greeted him and a bundle of eight year old energy pummeled into his arms.

“Your kid is the best and craziest,” the eldest laughed.

Donghae grinned and laughed softly. “I know.” He picked Hanhae up with a groan and hugged him tight. “And you’re almost too big to hold,” he added, looking at his son.

“You always say that,” Hanhae admitted. Donghae looked at Eunhyuk and tipped his head toward the inside. The older one had been caught examining Donghae’s still red-rimmed eyes.

“You wanna hang out for a bit?”

Eunhyuk nodded and stepped in. “Sure, for a few minutes.”

And just like that, life was back to normal. Eunhyuk never questioned, he always understood when Donghae was emotional. Whether it be remembering his late father or Geng, Eunhyuk always understood and never pried too hard or forced Donghae to talk about either of them.

Perhaps Donghae hugged Hanhae a little too tightly or a little too long that night before he kissed his son goodnight, perhaps he dusted off and rearranged the pictures on his dresser ever-so-slightly. Perhaps he hugged his pillow close and allowed himself to pretend for a moment that Geng were still alive, there in their bed, warm and breathing and holding him close. Perhaps he cried himself to sleep, wishing he would wake up and it would all be a dream. But this was reality, Geng died years ago, and it was no ones fault, no one could take the blame—aneurysms weren’t intentional.

The morning brought calm and peace, sunlight steaming through the soft curtains of Donhgae’s room, Hanhae’s game already going in the living room. It was a new day, and he found his strength again to carry on, to get up, to spend another lazy Sunday with a miniature carbon copy of his husband.

And he was thankful. He was blessed.


End file.
